#rewriting a bad outcome

[wyrmfedgrave]

The Independent: Trump tries to rewrite story of Libertarian Convention after he was booed on stage

Hahaha...

The Rump & his enablers are busy rewriting history.

Again...

After the bad showing at a certain 3rd-Party convention, it seems the stupid Rump actually forgot to file any paperwork to get the Libertarian nomination!

So now, of course, tRump & his Reich agents have to come up with some story of how he 'actually' didn't want that nomination.

Even though, that's the 1st thing he asked for...

What a fool!!

Please, come Election Day, vote this criminal out of the running...

True Blue.

[aparticularbandit]

me, going through the times when kyoko's memories short circuit and have to reboot.

the first time is literally she just doesn't have access to that memory.

the other times are gay panic and nope i definitely didn't kiss junko we're not going to remember that and crap i said the cheesy thing and it played out in my favor let's not think about that.

so really it's just kyoko has emotional overload so bad she can't remember her memories right.

which is apt when, you know, it was big emotions in the memory and then is also causing big emotions outside of the memory and kyoko is not great at parsing her own emotions.

[lennadanvers]

Drunks tell the truth

Rommate!Simon Ghost Riley x Reader

Simon has a roommate. His roommate has a secret. Johnny has a knack for meddling in other people's business.

A/N: Hi! This ended up being way longer than I expected (3.800+ words), but it's okay because I had fun writing it. I'm not sure it went in the direction I had in mind at the beggining, but I'm not about to start all over again. If I ever feel like it, I might rewrite it, though. But it won't be soon. Also, as I was copypasting it from word, it occured to me I might need to start using dividers. If you know where I can find cute ones, please let me know. Hope you like it! <3

When he opens the door and finds the apartment silent and dark, Simon is both relieved and disappointed. On one hand, he gets to take a deep breath and let the rests of Ghost dissolve in the empty space. He doesn’t have to see you yet- you don’t have to see him yet. He still has time before you worry about all the new bruises, before he has to insist he really doesn’t want you cleaning and patching them up, before he has to suppress the shivers that always respond to your fingers on his arm.

On the other hand, Simon spent all the way from the airport picturing your eyes and your welcoming smile. It’s hard not to be a little heartbroken over the fact that you’re not home in your pajama, willing to hug him hello and make all the gunpowder disappear. He even left Soap at a bar to drink by himself, hoping to have some time alone with you. Of course, his excuse was that he was tired. Never in a million years would Simon admit out loud that seeing his roommate is the only rest he needs after months of deployment.  

As he makes his way to his room, wondering if he has time to cook something before you get home, Simon realizes his mistake. It’s Friday. Not only that, it is also dark outside: it’s Friday, and it’s late. That only means one thing: danger.

All the fatigue and relief are gone instantly. He knows the time you get off work, and it was ages ago. Even if you had stayed late, you’d be home by now. Also, your work badge is in the bowl next to the door, he checks. You definitely came back home. And then -Simon confirms with one look at the wet shower- you got ready to go out.

Now, this is not a bad thing per se. He’s glad you’re having fun, spending time with your friends and dancing. You deserve to have a good time. Simon knows your girlfriends take care of you if they need to; you’re safe.

But he’s not.

You going out means one of two outcomes: you either come back home, or you don’t. He isn’t sure which is the worst one. If you find someone and leave with them, he’ll spend the night convincing himself you’re okay and forcing his eyes closed. He’ll have to pretend his stomach doesn’t hurt, his eyes aren’t a little too red and that the sleep doesn’t come because of the jet lag.

If you do come back to sleep in the apartment, it’s worse.

See, Simon is terrified of you when you’re drunk.

As if you could smell his fear, he hears your keys jingling in the hallway. Simon must be a masochist, because he doesn’t find cover. Instead, he watches as the door opens and you appear, almost tripping over your heels. When you look up and find him staring at you, your smile shakes him to his bones.

Simon sees in slow-motion how you let your keys fall to the floor and you stagger up to him- he’s two shades of scared now, because your balance while drunk is notoriously inexistant. He gives a few hesitant steps in your direction, cautious arms extended in case you fall. Which you do. Right on his chest.

Suddenly, there’s a shortage of air. You are soft and warm. He’s big and close to having a panic attack. Your perfume has so many layers- and he can smell them all. Your hair is touching his neck, involuntary caress, and your hand is holding his bicep. That’s great: the next hundred times he’s at the gym training his ass off, he’ll be thinking of you. Exactly what he needed. As if it wasn’t enough having you haunt his dreams.

Your giggle he’s used to, but it still feels different when it vibrates so close to his ribs. Oh, and what he feels there is your chest, isn’t it? When you smile up at him, he thanks the god he doesn’t believe in that he was too frozen to hug you: it would have destroyed him.

Luckily, he manages to get a hold of himself and slowly push you away. It’s useless, though, because you take advantage of the small distance to grab his chin.

“Si! You’re home early! I missed your pretty eyes…”

He tries to force some sarcasm into his smile.

“You’re drunk.”

You laugh again, taking a step back.

“I just went to get some drinks with the girls, Mary got a promotion and…”

Still talking, you bend over to start unclasping your heels. All Simon can do is swallow, forcing his eyes to stay focused in your clumsy fingers and not in the hem of your dress- that was short to begin with, but now is probably by the middle of your ass. Definitely showing the full length of your legs. And at least, a sliver of your underwear…

No.

No, he reminds himself. Simon forces his face to stop blushing and kneels to help you take off the godforsaken heels. A quick escape from the view that will follow him to bed tonight- and the next couple thousand nights-, but a stupid move overall. Because now you’re smirking at him from above.

It’s fun, seeing his desperation. He’s such a big man, always in control of himself… Making Simon lose his cool always feels like an accomplishment. You mutter a giddy thanks, but still try to untie the ribbon around your ankle, forcing him to grab your hand to take it out of the way.

°°°

“Let me do it, okay? Or we’ll be here all night.”

You pout playfully, but let him do it. When you’re finally on your feet, you sigh and pat his shoulder. So much better. He’s now a couple feet taller than you- it’s always nice to feel comfortably small.

Without looking back, you wobble towards the bathroom. Over your humming, you can hear his steps. Usually, he’s quiet. Sometimes, though, he makes noise on purpose, to make sure you know he’s there. Based on experience, you’d say he hates to scare you.

You don’t close the door behind you. Why bother? You simply kneel to open the last drawer to grab the make up remover. Yeah, maybe the floor is a little cold and leaves your knees slightly red. It’s okay, the counter is cold too when you sit on it. Feels good, your skin is warm and you’re feeling fuzzy.

The mirror shows him looking at you from the door. His arms are crossed, tattoos at full view. Hands clenched.

Wiping your right eye, you try to soothe him.

“You’re home now. Safe. See? Just me. Relax, Simon.”

He chuckles. Sometimes he does that, too. You probably said something he finds almost funny. He relaxes against the door frame, but it still looks forced.

“Mrs. Byrne brought me cookies yesterday. They’re in the blue jar, if you want any. She got a new puppy. She’s grey, some small breed with a lot of hair. Her name is Princess. Sometimes she cries at night. I told Mrs. Byrne it’s okay, I just hope the poor puppy gets used to her new home soon, but she insisted on baking cookies for everyone in the building. I don’t think it bothers anyone, really…”

You keep yapping and Simon slowly starts to look calmer. More like he’s at home, and less like he wants to run away. You finish wiping your make-up off by carefully erasing any traces of red lipstick. It’s a shame, really, because it looks so nice. Simon seems to think so too, judging by the way his gaze caresses your reflection in the mirror.

Instead of just jumping off the counter and going to bed, you start taking your jewelry off.

“…and the café two blocks away has this new carrot muffin- that doesn’t sound tempting, I know, but it tastes so good!”

Okay, maybe you didn’t need to moan. In your defense, they are really that good. And you’re drunk, you’re allowed to have less inhibitions. Simon shifts against the doorframe.

“You need to try them. We could go tomorrow… Or, maybe you’ll want to sleep in. I bet you missed having an actual bed, huh? All warm and soft. By the way, I washed your sheets. They didn’t have our usual laundry detergent, but I got one that smells quite nice. Nothing too strong…”

Simon suppresses a groan. His sheets?

°°°

“… So you can have your beauty sleep. Not that you aren’t beautiful now, you just look tired. But dark circles never hide eyes like yours. Still, it’ll do you good to…”

Beautiful? Him? Is it too late to go back to base? Maybe if he’s a couple hundred kilometers away you won’t be able to see the way his blush makes a return, this time all the way down to his neck. It makes it even harder to not stare at your legs, that swing smoothly, skin reflecting the ceiling light.

Instead, he focuses on your hands, and the way you slide your rings off. You do it slowly, probably because it’s a task that requires a non-alcoholic level of coordination. Somehow, you can keep talking, though.

“… I mean, you are looking good. More muscles. You’re always so fit, I bet your abs are like a table… Like, all firm…”

You interrupt your yapping for a second, just to untangle one of your bracelets from the other. He pictures you eating at his table. Simon stops himself from closing the bathroom door- he isn’t sure which side he would like to stay in.

“And that hair! How come it’s so soft…? I mean, it looks soft. Can I touch it?”

One thing about you in this state is that you just do things. Invading his personal space is one of them. Usually, you just leave his body alone. You cross other lines, teasing and sarcasm being an everyday occurrence. But touching him? Not more than necessary.

Now, however, your hand is on his head. Your tiny fingers- everything is tiny next to him- are caressing his hair. He can feel your nails lightly stroking his scalp, going in gentle circles. Simon realizes he can’t move. The bathroom is not wide enough for him to step away. You’re sitting on the counter, barely leaning in his direction, but you’re everywhere.

Your perfume is in his chest, for the second time in a couple of minutes. It’s burning like his cheeks, and all he can do is stand there. Your eyes are so big and bright, how come they’re in his apartment and not up in the sky with the other stars? And your smile, it’s too round and pink for his sanity.

Not for the first time, he wonders what would happen. How would he live if he gave up and kissed you. If he was just a little brave. Not even brave enough to go for your lips, but for your cheek or your wrist. Maybe your shoulder.

But he’s not that kind of brave. He’s suicidal brave, instead. Heroic brave. The kind of brave that makes him a good soldier and a bad person. Simon is a coward, who can barely swallow a whine when you pull his hair playfully. He hides it by clearing his throat.

“I’ll tell you my beauty secrets when you’re sober enough to appreciate them. C’mon, you need to go to bed.”

Grabbing your wrist is easy. Pulling your hand away from him is the hardest thing he’s ever done. Holding your waist to help you get off the counter, easy. Taking a step away, new world record of hard.

Taking another step back, because you stepped close again; alarmingly harder.

And you step closer again. He doesn’t have the heart to step back this time. All Simon can do is hold his breath while you lean in. You stand on your toes and his hands start shaking. There it is again, your perfume. Your lips. Your smile. Oh, you’re smiling up at him. So, so close. Simon can see the look of want in his own face that’s reflected on your pupils.

“Simon?”

He means to reply, he really does. At the very least a “Yes, love?”- something gallant; something that’ll make you put your hands on his chest. Something that’ll open the door for him to grab your waist again, this time like he’s not hiding. Something that’ll bring you even closer.

Instead, he just exhales. A pathetic, pained, whiny breath. It seems to be enough of an answer for you, though.

“Si…”

He stops himself from nodding.

“You’re blocking the door.”

It takes Simon a second to process. You’re still looking at him with dreamy eyes, hair like a halo in front of the mirror light, cheeks rosy and fresh. When his stupid brain finally comes to terms with what you just said, Simon crumbles.

He throws himself to the other side of the hallway, tongue heavy with shame. It’s like his shoulders are glued to the wall, and his stomach to the floor. You don’t seem to notice, shuffling over to your room while humming the same pop song from earlier.

Sometimes, Simon is sure he must be in hell. He sure deserves it. He sees you walk away- bare feet, naked legs, messy hair- and he’s certain.

Some other times, though, he knows he’s in heaven. Shocking, because Simon doesn’t believe in heaven- and he doesn’t think he’s earned it, either way. But when things like this happen, when you pop your head out of your bedroom door to look back at him, it’s easy to pretend. It’s easy to laugh when you ask him why he’s not putting you to bed.

Simon stills himself and walks into your room. It’s tidy and warm, smells like you, and he makes a mental note to let you decorate the rest of the apartment. If he uses that as scenography for his fantasies- where he lives in your room, where you share it, where he can fall asleep in your space-, then it’s nobody’s business.

Luring Simon into your room is quite easy. Most things you do with him are easy. It makes you giggle again. It’s easy being like this, too. Open and bubbly, no mental barriers to stop you from touching him or saying whatever you happen to think. No inhibitions to forbid you from taking off your dress once you’re facing your open wardrobe.

°°°

You could swear you hear him choke. He coughs, and you ask him if he’s okay. There’s some water on your bedside table, if he wants a sip. You hear his steps. He does, great. You put on an oversized t-shirt and turn around.

His eyes are a little too wide. It’s not easy to catch him off guard: tonight is a lucky one. Simon is not the only one surprised, though- you could swear you’d left your purple vibrator on top of the bedside table, and not on the floor. Oh, well, a problem for tomorrow-you.

As you shuffle towards your bed, he steps back, putting distance between you.

“That’s my shirt.”

Sounds a bit like a question. You climb into bed.

“Nah. It’s my pajama. See?”

You look up at him from under the covers. You curl up, the sheets are cold. Luckily, his stare is hot against your face.

“…sure. Sure, it is.”

Simon doesn’t move. You blink a couple of times, before a yawn takes over.

“You’re not gonna turn the lights off?”

He hesitates. His eyes look at your bed, more than half empty. Then steps forward.

“Goodnight, then.”

Simon bends down and kisses your forehead. You’ll blame the sigh you let out on the alcohol. When he turns the lights off, becoming just a silhouette at the door, you wave your fingers at him.

“Sweet dreams, Si.”

Simon barely sleeps that night. He dreams with your forgotten heels on the bathroom floor, and your smile that looks like sunrise decided to light up his midnight.

°°°

He gives up before the actual sun comes out. His voice is so desperate when he calls Johnny, that his friend barely complains about the time. Simon warns him not to ring the doorbell- and maybe includes a little threat that Soap laughs off.

They are still chatting in the kitchen when you wake up. Luckily, you’re wearing pants now. But, by the look in your tired face, you weren’t ready to find a stranger in your house. Frowning, you mutter something like “good morning”- even though it’s closer to noon.

Johnny smiles, charming as always, and Simon squints. Before it can get too uncomfortable- for you, Soap can be uncomfortable all he wants-, he speaks. He keeps his voice low, anticipating your hungover.

“This is Johnny. Soap, this is my roommate.”

You wave at him and grab a cup. As you’re preparing your late breakfast, you start humming quietly the song from last night. It grabs Soap’s attention.

“Aye, I ken that song. Yer the lassie from last night, aren't ye?”

You freeze.

The music is loud. You yell along, grabbing one of your friend’s hands and making her do a spin. She does the same with you.

°°°

It’s a nice night. The bar started to empty some time ago- no more touchy men to bother you and your friends. It is a little hot, though, so you ask if anyone wants something to drink.

You slide up to the bar, not far from where you friends are still dancing. You need to gesture for the bartender to understand your order over the music, but he eventually nods and walks away. While you’re waiting, you feel someone stand next to you, back resting on the bar. You glance sideways- it’s a handsome man, with electric blue eyes that look at you like he’s found a pot of gold.

“Hi, bonnie. Are ye having fun?”

You smile politely and say yes. He doesn’t seem to hear it, but he understands nonetheless.

“What’s yer name? Ah’m John.”

Again, you reply. He seems nice enough- John’s not looking at your boobs or ass, so it counts as a win.

“Kin ah buy ye a drink?”

Now, he’s forcing you to decide. First option is saying yes, you can let him dance with you the next song and see where it goes. His eyes get more beautiful every second you spend looking at them, and his smile promises fun… Which leads you to option number two: saying no. He’s handsome, yes, but you don’t know him. You think about Simon. He’d scold you for considering going home with a stranger. Besides, he’d kill you if you brought him to the apartment.

Well, it’s not like he’ll find out, will he? Simon will be away for God knows how long.

You offer John your most sincere smile and a cheeky wink.

“Sorry, I don’t drink.”

Just on time, the bartender hands your bottle of water over the counter and you thank him. Without looking back, you join your girlfriends again.

It doesn’t take long for you to decide to head back home. The idea of an empty apartment is weighing on you. At least you can be sad in pajamas when you get home. As you hug your friend goodbye, you see John laughing next to a blonde at the back. Well, at least someone will have a happy night.

“Sorry, I don’t think I remember you.”

°°°

Johnny looks taken aback.

“Ah offered ye a drink, bit ye said...”

You cut him off, still not looking at them.

“Yeah, drinks. I had quite a few of those last night. I don’t remember much, sorry.”

Simon doesn’t like the way you close the cabinets, with a little too much force. Nor does your quick talking calm his nerves. Now he’s fully frowning at Johnny, who looks confused out of his mind.

Before he can keep bothering you, you grab your cup and turn around.

“Tylenol’s in the bathroom.”

His careful voice stops you in your tracks. You look guilty, almost sorry, when you offer a shy smile.

“…thanks, Si. Nice to meet you, Johnny. Sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have had that many drinks.”

Simon can barely hear your steps as you flee directly to your room. Your embarrassment, pink on your cheeks and nose, are added to the collection of things he’ll dream of every time he closes his eyes.

Next to him, Soap has a weird expression.

“Ah met her last night, she ainlie drank water. Ah swear… I watched’er all ni-”

“Shut up, Johnny.”

He doesn’t want to hear it. Doesn’t need to.

He’s worried you’ll hear Johnny’s annoyingly loud voice from your room. You’re innocent enough to think you can fool him. And Simon doesn’t have the guts to let you know that he knows just yet. There’s a reason he doesn’t say anything about the way you smell whenever you come home from the bar- all nice perfume and zero alcohol-, or how he knows you didn’t take any Tylenol. A reason why Simon lets you pretend to be drunk, grab his hair and smile at him. A reason why he himself pretends to believe you.

And he’s not going to let Johnny spoil figure that one out just yet.

[theemporium]

im not sure if we’re allowed to combine prompts, so if we’re not, then feel free to choose!

can i request a violet fluff 💜 with nicojack??

"Come back to bed."

"Please, never apologise for wanting to be loved."

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

49. “Come back to bed.”

.

It was late.

The game ended hours ago, a brutal loss to the Devils that stung for everyone—the players, the coaches, the fans. It was a game of stupid mistakes and missed opportunities and it laid heavy on everyone’s shoulders as the seats at the Prudential Center emptied after the final buzzer sounded through the arena. 

It was bad, but it wasn’t season-breaking. It was still in the early months of the season, they had time to recover from the loss and move up. And all things considered with how the last season went, things were looking bright for the Devils chances to clinch a playoff spot and have a solid foot through the door for the Stanley Cup.

But that didn’t stop Jack’s brain from spiralling the second he stepped off the ice after the heartbreaking loss. 

Everyone could see the way he closed off and it wasn’t unusual. They were competitive athletes, it was in their DNA to thrive and push and aim for the win. It was disappointing when they didn’t get it. It was normal for them to just have moments to themselves to come to terms with the game before leaving it in the past and moving on.

But Jack couldn’t seem to let go. 

It was borderline obsessive the way he was watching tapes from a game he played hours ago, watching the same clips over and over and over again like he could somehow rewrite the outcome. Even getting him to eat dinner was a struggle, the boy uninterested and untempted by the plate lying beside him. 

You thought maybe he needed to sleep it off, that maybe he would talk to you or Nico in the morning. 

Instead, you woke up at three in the morning to find his side of the bed empty and Nico just as confused as he tried to blink away the sleep from his eyes. 

“Where’s Jack?” Nico grumbled, biting back a yawn as he reached towards the empty spot in bed, the sheets now cold.

“I can take a guess,” you murmured, throwing your legs over the side of the bed and wincing slightly at the cool floorboards beneath your feet before you walked out towards the living room. 

It was unsurprising to find Jack sat on the couch, tablet in hand and eyes glued to the screen. His shoulders were tense, his posture was horrible and his lips looked red and raw from biting down on them so much. 

“Babe,” you called out in a soft voice, watching Jack jump out of his skin as he turned to find both of you standing in the doorway. 

“Oh, hey,” he cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing a little when he realised he had been caught. “Couldn’t sleep?” 

“Jack,” you scolded in a soft voice.

“Schat, this isn’t healthy,” Nico frowned as he took in the scene in front of him, brows furrowed and concern written across his face. “I know you’re upset about the game—”

“I lost us that game,” Jack whispered, his voice breaking. “Look at all these mistakes! You kept setting me up and I kept fumbling and—”

“Hey,” Nico shook his head, rounding the couch until he was kneeling in front of Jack. He took the younger boy’s face in his hands, his thumbs soothing over his cheeks. “Everyone makes mistakes. It’s not one person’s fault. We are a team. We win together, we fail together. You know that.”

Jack swallowed harshly. “I know but—”

“No,” he frowned. “Together, Jack. You can’t keep kicking yourself about this. Not like this, okay?” 

He nodded softly. “Okay.” 

“Come back to bed,” Nico murmured as he stood up, pulling the boy up with him as they shuffled towards where you were standing.

“I’m a part of that together too, by the way,” you commented as Jack approached you, sinking into your embrace as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a hug.

“Of course, babe,” he rasped, letting out a sigh as he leaned his head on your shoulder. “M’taking middle spot, by the way.”

You snorted. “Fine. Just this once.”

.

[marionjabbs]

ok ok ok.

ruby haunted by herself (the narrative)

she is what she looks like. (blurry. a signal. alone.)

"are you having a good time?"

some kind of afterlife where the unfinished business creates itself

all she could do was make people run and hide and sever the cords of their life (she did it to herself) so she turned that unbreakable story into one small monumental victory (that no one else would ever know) while enduring alongside her ghost the loneliest life of her own creation.

it never snowed again after the doctor disappeared. rest in peace mad jack. she never found her birth mother but she always found herself, alone, always

the stories ruby absorbs and reintegrates into reality have a bad-dream logic. the story by nature is not real (the signifier alone) but we experience it anyway (we become the signified?). the worst possible outcome was always already happening. we see something inexplicable and weave rules to govern it.

the story took a branching path it was never/always meant to take so ruby had to spend her life rewriting it. the only weap(e)n she had was herself

ASK HER. ASK HER

[sleepydreams444]

A Quick Guide to Revision

Ever wished you could hit the 'undo' button on life's awkward moments? Look no further than revision – it's like photoshop for your memories😍

Every now and then we all catch ourselves remembering a really embarrassing moment from ages ago😔 Whether it was something cringe we did or said, or a bad grade that hurt our egos, everyone has smth they want to erase from their memories. Or maybe you've been trying to manifest something but you havent seen any movement and feel like ur gonna spiral? Instead of spiraling into a pit of regret, why not give revision a try?

Here's how to do it:

Step one: Dive headfirst into that memory. Like seriously, get deep in there and visualize it in as much detail as possible. Remember every cringe-worthy detail, feel the emotions of embarrassment, sadness and anger. I cannot stress this enough ur gonna have to GET IN THERE and relive that scene as much as possible, feel all the negative emotions and leave nothing behind because were throwing all of it away!

Step two: Congrats the worst part is over, now comes the fun part! Imagine yourself rewriting the script. Rewrite every negative detail and make it positive. For example, if ur revising a bad grade, imagine yourself looking at ur assignments and smiling at the A+ ur teacher just gave you. Revising something stupid you said? Imagine yourself confidently speaking and grabbing everyone's attention in the room as you speak and stand like the most powerful person in the world. At this point feel yourself in the same scene, except completely altered into a positive memory where your ideal outcome is the reality.

Feel those good vibes flowing yet? Embrace the positive feeling and bask in the glory of your revised reality, knowing that the past has now been altered in ur favor. Release that old memory and trust that your revision magic is doing its thing behind the scenes.

End by affirming to yourself that it is done and your reality is yours therefore this new revised version of your past is yours!

And that's all you gotta do! Life's too short to dwell on negative moments, whenever you feel things arent going your way, rewrite the script and go forth and manifest your best life!

[fallingstqrss]

what about us?

summary: you had always assumed coriolanus was your future. that was until a certain tribute from district came around.

a/n: i'm not sure how much i like this so i might rewrite it or edit it later but i felt like writing and i wanted to post something. so i hope you guys like it! <3

warnings: idk really if i forget any please tell me. just coriolanus like actually being nice?

Around the Academy, many knew Coriolanus Snow as someone driven purely by ambition, someone who inspired insecurity and tension among many of his classmates. Yet, to you, he had always just been Coriolanus, a boy you'd known since you both were children, someone who you'd give anything for.

Ever since the end of the war you and Coriolanus had been inseparable. He was your best friend. However, that blossomed into something more when the two of you started the Academy. As soon as you and Coriolanus started dating you knew he was the one for you, you couldn't picture yourself being with anyone else.

With the Plinth Prize announcement looming rumors of his stern demeanor circulated. However, in your eyes, Coriolanus remained the ever-constant presence of kindness to support you throughout all your highs and lows.

You could almost sense the tension that grew in the air the with announcement of the Plinth Prize looming. Coriolanus, usually the picture of composure, seemed on the verge of unraveling under the weight of his expectations for himself. You could tell his nights were spent sleepless and days were consumed by worries about his grades, the Plinth Prize hanging over him like an oppressive cloud.

You understood this event's significance and the importance of the prize to Coriolanus. The sacrifice of time spent together was one of your last concerns compared to the challenges presented to him.

However, the day had finally come. It was now the day they announced who had won the Plinth Prize.

As you walked into the hall you found Coriolanus, amidst a sea of your peers. Coriolanus couldn't see you, his back turned. However, as you approached, taking his hand into yours, you were greeted by him with a smile, him squeezing your hand in silent gratitude. Your presence offers a momentary respite from the relentless pressures that bore down on him.

But, the two of you didn't have time to say much, as music sounded throughout the hall, signaling the beginning of the reaping. You took your place a couple of seats behind Coriolanus, placing a kiss on his cheek before separating from him.

The Dean's voice echoed throughout the hall, outlining the new conditions for the Plinth Prize. You watched Coriolanus, sensing his tension from the announcement. Sensing his realization, the realization that his future was dependent upon the outcome of the Hunger Games.

Tensions reached their peak as the reaping continued, district after district being assigned. Coriolanus' name remained uncalled until the 12th district. You felt bad for Coriolanus watching as an emaciated girl in a rainbow dress walked onto the stage.

You shared in Coriolanus' disappointment, you felt how big of a burden this was to him. However, the atmosphere drastically shifted when this girl dropped a snake down one of the girls in the audience. Coriolanus shot up from his seat, eyes fixated on the screen.

You watched him, your own emotions in a whirlwind. The twist left everyone in shock but Coriolanus' reaction hinted at something else, something deeper. Noticing this sent a pang through your heart, the way he smiled at the girl, watching her with a sort of amazement as she began singing. You felt something that could only be described as jealousy.

This was a new feeling for you. There had been times when other girls had hit on Coriolanus. But, you had never had a reason to be jealous, Coriolanus had always remained loyal to you. However, for some reason, this felt different to you.

Following the end of the ceremony, your classmates began to speak amongst themselves but you knew you had to get out of there, these emotions being too much to bear in the midst of you classmates. You needed space, making a hasty exit through the back door.

Coriolanus, of course, noticed your departure, pausing his conversation with those around him to follow after you. Your shift in demeanor was obvious to him.

Outside, the breeze offered a momentary break from the tense atmosphere in the hall. You took quick steps, the need for solitude guiding you. Coriolanus, determined not to lost sight of you, caught up to you and closed the distance.

His hand closed around your wrist, gently turning you to face him. Concern was etched onto his features as he pushed a stray strand of hair out of your face. "Hey, what's wrong?" He asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

You stood there, suddenly being faced with an internal debate. The silence stretched between the two of you, Coriolanus' furrowed eyebrows revealed his growing concern. Ultimately, you decided to shield Coriolanus from the petty feelings of jealousy that gnawed at you.

"Nothing, I just don't feel well. I'm just gonna head home," You assured him, summoning a smile to mask the turmoil within you. Coriolanus, however, wasn't very easily convinced.

"Are you sure? Do you want me to come with you?" He pressed, the concern in his voice undeniable.

"No, I'll be okay. Just go work on your mentoring abilities," you insisted, offering a quick, reassuring peck on his lips before turning away. As you walked away, the faint echo of concern lingered in Coriolanus's eyes, but you couldn't bring yourself to burden him with the trivial pangs of jealousy that wrestled within you.

Things between you and Coriolanus had been okay since the reaping. You had been continually growing more and more jealous of his tribute, who you came to know as Lucy Gray, the Songbird. However, you put your feelings on the back-burner, reminding yourself that this was for Coriolanus. However, your feelings came to a head when you heard about a particularly nasty rumor from on of your classmates Festus.

It was the day of the Hunger Games, the day that the tributes went into the arena. Festus had approached you before the games started, pulling you into a quiet corner.

"Y/n, there's something I have to tell you." Festus spoke, his seriousness concerned you, nervousness growing within you as you questioned him.

"What is it, Festus? What happened?"

"It's about Coriolanus," Festus spoke, you felt your heart drop. You had a feeling that news like this was coming but you couldn't bear to accept it as truth. "I saw him and Lucy Gray last night, at the zoo. They kissed," Festus spoke quickly, hoping to deliver the knews as fast as possible.

The blow hit you like a sledgehammer, shattering the fragile façade of composure you had clung to. The news of Coriolanus and Lucy Gray, the Songbird, sharing an intimate moment at the zoo cut through you with a sharpness that left you breathless.

You fought against the denial that arose in you. This was your Coriolanus, he would never betray you. However, things have been different lately. He'd been spending more and more time with Lucy Gray. The shock immobilized you for a moment, leaving you in a disorienting fog. The world around you seemed to warp and twist as you grappled with the harsh reality that Festus presented.

"He wouldn't do that to me," you whispered to yourself, a feeble attempt to convince yourself that this was a misunderstanding. Yet, Festus's words lingered, a relentless truth that threatened to unravel the foundation of trust you had built with Coriolanus.

Your steps faltered as you re-entered the main area, a numbness settling over you. The buzz of conversations around you became an indistinct hum, drowned out by the storm of emotions brewing within. The other seniors, talk amongst themselves in the stands.

You found a seat among them, sinking into it as if the weight of the revelation bore down on your shoulders. Tears welled up, blurring your vision as you fought to hold them back, even as your emotions threatened to break through. The haze of disbelief and betrayal clouded your thoughts, leaving you adrift in a sea of confusion and heartache.

However, the sight of Coriolanus in the front of the room, standing among the mentors, was a fresh stab to your wounded heart. The pain intensified as you realized you couldn't bear to watch him mentor Lucy Gray from his computer, knowing the betrayal that had transpired between them.

As you hurried up the stairs and out of the door, Coriolanus noticed your swift departure. He called after you, a note of desperation in his voice. Ignoring his pleas, you didn't allow the tears to fall until you were safely outside, the cool air providing a stark contrast to the turmoil within.

"Y/n! Y/n, what happened?" Coriolanus's voice echoed behind you, the urgency in his steps matching the acceleration of your own. He caught up to you quickly, positioning himself in front of you to halt your retreat. The tears that stained your cheeks didn't escape his notice, and a pang of remorse struck his heart at the sight of your pain.

"You know, Coriolanus. You know what you did," you managed to say, your words carrying a weight of hurt and betrayal. In your distressed state, you threw a punch at his chest, a futile attempt to channel the frustration and anguish within you. However, Coriolanus, standing firm, felt the impact but remained unyielding.

"No, Y/n, tell me, please. What did I do?" Coriolanus pleaded, genuine confusion etched across his face. The realization that something had gone terribly wrong dawned on him, but the specifics eluded him. The raw vulnerability in your tear-filled eyes, the pain reflected in your every gesture, sparked a pang of guilt within him. He desperately sought answers, trying to make sense of the sudden shift in your emotions.

"You and Lucy Gray, at the zoo last night." You responded. The hurt in your eyes was palpable as you confronted Coriolanus with the words of Festus. Coriolanus' confusion mirrored your own as he took a step forward, a gesture of comfort that you skillfully evaded. The revelation hung heavy in the air, a tense pause that finally broke as you accused him of kissing Lucy Gray.

"What? What about me and Lucy Gray?" he questioned, he seemed genuinely confused, which threw you off, but you were staying true to the information provided by Festus.

"You two kissed, Festus told me." You responded.

"Y/n," he sighed, "Lucy Gray and I were just talking about strategies. I'll admit we were close, but it was just because I didn't want the other tributes to hear. She leaned in but I pulled away, Festus might have left before I did. Trust me I told her there was only one woman in my life." Coriolanus explained, his heart pained at the fact that you believed he would ever cheat on you.

"So you and Lucy Gray didn't kiss?" you inquired, a yearning for reassurance in your voice. Coriolanus's response was swift and sincere, a promise that cut through the doubt and uncertainty.

"No, and I never would. I'd never do that to you. I love you, Y/n, you're the only one I want to be with," he affirmed, closing the distance and bringing a hand to cup your cheek. The touch wiped away the lingering traces of tears, and his words began to mend the fractures of trust.

As realization dawned, you spoke words weighed with guilt and remorse. "I'm sorry, Corio. I shouldn't have believed Festus. I should've just talked to you," you admitted, your gaze falling to the ground. Coriolanus gently lifted your chin, ensuring your eyes met his.

"No, I've been so distant recently with the games I've given you few reasons to trust me. But, believe me, as soon as these games are over, and I win the Plinth Prize, I'm going to spend the rest of our lives making it up to you," Coriolanus declared, attempting to lighten the atmosphere with a touch of humor. Your laughter, a melody that resonated with forgiveness, filled the space. Your hear swelled as Coriolanus mentioned the potential for a life together.

Seizing the moment, Coriolanus leaned down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. The warmth of reconciliation enveloped you, and the weight of doubt lifted. In that kiss, you felt the promise of a renewed connection, a shared future that transcended the shadows of misunderstanding. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the unspoken vow to navigate the challenges ahead together.

[nico-esoterica]

Your thinking is an investment.

(Long Post): Even if shit doesn't hit the fan right away, you're planning for that story to eventually happen. If you hate your job, your living situation, your life path, whatever it is, the story you're telling about it to others and yourself is always manifesting. You can't turn it off. It's okay to not enjoy it, hate it, etc. But it's important to pivot your mindset and investing in seeing it changing. Whatever you tell yourself consistently will play out.

I'm going to discuss intrusive thoughts and OCD below and how I managed mine while manifesting:

Intrusive thought/OCD wise, it's not any or every thought that pops up in your brain. It's just what you validate. Even if you're afraid or paranoid about xyz, your emotional mind thinks it's real but the rest of you doesn't. Your mental responses you can't control aren't going to manifest. In therapy, you learn that you don't have to give these fleeting thoughts power, even if they're incessant. You still have control. It's also totally okay if you vent about your circumstances btw. That's not going to affect anything if you say it won't.

Everyone is always going through something. And during all this, especially with transitioning from taking full control after a lifetime of thinking you couldn't, it may feel like absolutely nothing is going on and shit can feel frustrating. However, what you don't know is that you're rewriting all of the people and situations you've changed your mind about. You may not see the full changes right away, but please take every single 'coincidence' as a sign of it working, because it is. People are going to start being nicer and more considerate, situations will be less frustrating, money will be more fluid, and your mental health will improve. It's also okay to be emotional, frustrated, and to just not be okay. If your story overall doesn't change, you're fine. Let those emotions flow!

There's going to be a lot of epiphanies and break throughs, especially if you start nurturing your self concept and apply that peace of mind it gives to everything. You're going to start noticing harmful thought patterns you've had, decisions you've made because of conditioning, and you'll see what you need to internally let go of. This is where therapy, therapeutic tools, and different spiritual practices and rituals come in to help this adjustment. There's no one size fits all for everyone so you should ideally find what speaks to you and not what you 'think' you should adopt. Your intuition, imo, will help you out here. This may be a period where you purge out old relationships, habits, and lifestyles which don't align with you anymore. They may even simply fall off on their own. None of this has to happen but is what I see in a lot of people due to my own journey. But nothing bad has to happen nor do you need to sacrifice anything. That's Hollywood-dramatic, lmao. You just may not resonate with a lot of shit anymore. And that's OKAY! It's great tbh. You're going to notice people's limitations they impose on you or themselves immediately too.

The second you say shit's new, then it is. When you continue to choose it or persist, you'll notice the wheels moving. After a week, month, months, or a year or more, your circumstances are going to dramatically change. They can literally happen over night if you like your shit to move fast too. After a while, you're going to understand the mechanics of how YOU personally manifest and what you like to do vs what you don't. There's no one size fits all. It doesn't matter if you've tried a thousand techniques. As long as you say everything you do is working and you are a stubborn motherfucker, your mind's going to get used to it and will stop fighting you on everything, especially if you're neurodivergent. Speaking from experience. When you tell your brain who's boss consistently, it takes you at your word and the trust you have in yourself to choose the best outcomes you develop from your self concept starts running in the background. It'll become easier to self-soothe, reassure yourself, and regulate your nervous system. When you say you're in control, your universe says 'okay, bet' and you'll find those resources easily or you'll start naturally doing them.

You're constantly investing in what works for you or works against you. You're either trusting in things working or working against your favor. That's why it's always good to think great things about yourself regardless of circumstances how things look or seem or how the past played out. All outcomes shift immediately with your awareness of what you think is possible. Your senses are limited and this is why it's crucial to let your imagination do the rest. Because shit always catches up. Your brain can't tell the difference between what you think you're experiencing vs what you actually are irl.

So if you continually tell yourself good things are happening or will, there has to be a confirmation bias for that. Your brain runs off your logic at all times. Therefore, you can rationalize that anything can work and it will. From a nitty gritty pov, you should always make sure to still be reasonable about shit, like to not blow your rent on some bs in one night. But after a while, you'll be able to do that and it won't be a problem. Don't stress your mental bandwidth out like that at first unless you have the inner resources to lock in on a good outcome. Dream big and do all things big, but do so safely without risking your mental health.

Whatever you invest in, positive or negative, will always pay off. Choose them wisely :)

[dangerdazee]

descendants: rise of red one-shot, in which uliana is not as big and bad as her "friends" lead her to believe

Uliana walks in front, a couple feet ahead, and the other four villains follow behind. They whisper as they walk.

"Goblin pastry? That's her plan?" Hook crosses one arm over his chest, propping up the arm with a hook and letting it sit up by face.

"How were our ideas not worse than that?" Hades questions.

"I'd much rather eat a little pastry than burn to a crisp." Morgie raises his eyebrows and purses his lips.

"Maybe there's more to the plan than just the cupcake." Hook's attempt to give Uliana the benefit of the doubt is not well-received.

"It's Uliana. You know there's not." Hades smirks.

Maleficent smacks her boyfriend on the arm.

"Hey!"

"Don't say that." But Maleficent's laugh doesn't really match her words.

"What's all the talking back there?!" Uliana stops abruptly and whips around, her hair flying.

"Nothing." Maleficent, Hades, Hook, and Morgie say in unison.

As soon as Uliana turns back around and the group of five continue walking, the four in the back stifle laughs.

Uliana thinks she's big, bad, and scary. She thinks all of the people in her little entourage are terrified of her and bow to her.

She couldn't be more wrong.

Why she ever expected evil personified to not be playing a cruel joke on her is beyond them. But she's been falling for it, hook (no pun intended,) line, and sinker.

It was Maleficent's idea first. When the five of them began to form a solid group, Maleficent immediately noticed Uliana's insecurity and confidence issues.

A good friend would try to be supportive and helpful, but this is Maleficent. She saw it as an opportunity to have a good laugh.

One day, the facade will fall and Uliana will be humiliated and the outcome of this evil prank will bring them great joy. But, honestly, they find it just as fun and satisfying to laugh behind her back about it.

"Should we even be getting back at Princess Perky?" Hades throws his arm over Maleficent's shoulders as they continue walking and whispering.

"Why? Are you going all soft?"

"Gross, no. The flamingo thing was just really funny." Hades gives a sly smile.

Uliana stops as someone calls her name. It's a teacher, so she's more inclined to actually pay attention and go. She tells the others to go on and she'd meet them later.

As soon as Uliana is out of earshot, Maleficent pipes up again.

"We could always... sabotage." Maleficent's face reveals that she's thinking hard.

"Bridget?"

"No- How would that make sense?" Hook pats Morgie on the shoulder, taking a bit of the edge off of his correction. "No, she means we could sabotage Uli's plan."

"Exactly."

"How?" Morgie asks.

"I'm not entirely sure yet. But we have a few hours left to figure it out."

Hook glances over at Uliana, seeing her angry and frustrated as the teacher speaks to her. Hook can only assume that she's not doing well in a class.

"Look, look. Look how upset she is." Maleficent, Morgie, and Hades turn their attention that direction and chuckle along. "Never gets old."

It would be only a couple years later that Uliana realizes what's been going on.

The anger in her was only beaten out by humiliation.

Suddenly, all these people who she thought feared her were making her feel small. And weak. It was as if they grew ten feet tall.

All the strength and power she thought she possessed dwindled down to almost nothing.

Uliana felt like her whole life was a lie, while Maleficent, Hades, Hook, and Morgie all laughed and had a grand time. They reveled in the result of their game.

Part of Uliana wondered if she deserved it.

.

[ @ladyoftheesun here it is! might rewrite sometime to improve it, and i'll tag you again if i do unless you tell me not to! ]

[harzilla]

*slaps hand on table*

Tell me about your Yuusona. Your twst protag. I love seeing people's ideas and concepts. Are they just you? That's awesome! Are they twisted from a Disney character? Sweet! Are they your way to work through your trauma? More power to you!

One of my favorites is @ilmacore 's Maria. Blessed adorable abuelita Yuu.

I have four currently rolling around in my head. Each one is based on a type of genre.

The first is chubby!Yuu, the shoujo/magical girl type. My darling lil chubby gal who is another member of the sunshine team. The best damn support these boys will have. Her nickname from Floyd would be capybara(I originally had it as manatee but capybara fits her more because she's genuinely nice and tries to get along with everybody). I see her wearing a lot of cottage core, florals, etc... soft feminine clothing. Her ending would have her finding a way back home but being able to travel back and forth between Twst and her home world. You can guess which boy(or boys) might have a crush on her based on these pics.

The next one I call punk!Yuu. The one who fits the shonen archetype. Had a shitty life growing up and was a homeless teen. They ended up in Twst after dying from being hit by a car. Most likely to throw hands for pissing them off. Floyd calls them pistol shrimp. Climbed on and smashed the head of an overblot. Threw Jade at Floyd during book 2's investigation. Protective of those they care about. Lots of piercing and punk style clothing. My favorite ship with them is actually Riddle. Very opposites attract situation. But they have a lot in common(Yuu's father was a worse version of Riddle's mother) Yuu teaches Riddle to live life more freely, and Riddle teaches them to be less rebellious. This Yuu stays in Twst when they find out the truth of how they got there because they're genuinely happier then they ever were back home.

The third Yuu is adopted!Yuu. The one from my previous musings. A Yuu that fits the reincarnated! Archetype. This Yuu originally died in the bad ending timeline where Yuu overblots and becomes a calamity class monster who destroys the world. They were given a second chance at life when they finally died in the first timeline. They reincarnated as an infant and was adopted by Crowley. This Yuu is fairly mellow, when asked why they did something the answer is just they felt like it, but is also good at pulling at Crowley's strings to get what they want. They have a preference for loose, casual clothing. Preferring to wear things like oversized t-shirts and hoodies. Their ending is they almost repeat the calamity when their past life memories begin to overtake their current life after all the overblots including Grim's. But the difference is the previous life Yuu has nobody, but this Yuu has their friends, Grim, and Crowley to save them.

The fourth Yuu I call Author!Yuu. They're pretty much a Yuu who gained so much magical power they became the equivalent of a god. Because they were the first anomaly, they don't age at all and have lived thousands of years accumulating magic and knowledge, even out living Malleus. Their life is lonely and they actually don't want to see another person end up like them. Their magic allows them to manipulate the timelines within a certain limitation. They can't rewrite timelines completely, but they figure out a loophole by finding the alternate versions of themselves they think will give the best outcome for the "story" of the world. This Yuu is the one who figured out the precognitive dreams system to help each Yuu out. This version of Yuu exists in a world where ALL the stories of Twst are true. Fanfics, fanart, game, manga, novel, etc... every story is its own world and this Yuu records every one of them within their great library. Every book in the library of their soul is a story somebody has written about the world of Twst.

So, tell me more about your Yuus.

[beck-nightengale]

Oh, those moonlit walks would be full of them just insulting each other.

"Pathetic."

"Asshole."

Actually those walks would look more like this:

Alternate ending to the Rhalâta questline:

[from-vuka]

So... this is a drabble (do ppl still use that word?) for a future idea i have of Ghoap x reader.... lol (i think reader is gender neutral but i could be wrong ;;) not all of it is planned out so there may be gaps but imma rewrite into a whole piece maybe????

Listen idk im still getting used to putting myself out there LMAO

cw: implied cheating towards the end, neglectful relationship (not simon), married! reader, "the one that got away" mentality (idk if this is a cw but i put here)

‧₊*: ⋅ଳ⋅˚₊‧𖦹₊⊹⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

When they parked, the first question was where to go.

The mission has been a bust. Intel was incorrect or outright wrong, gaps missing in reports that they knew would be a problem later--and they were always right. When shit hit the fan, they knew exactly what to do: collect their people and dip before Laswell had anything to say about shooting at Russian military.

The little SUV they stole was hot, the AC blasting but doing little to quelch the need for water or how sweaty they had gotten running despite the possibility of snow. Price had long since left the car, pacing back and forth as he tried to call Kate. Gaz tinkered on the laptop, seeing if any of the files they were able to download or code ripped from its program could indicate a next step, a lead in the right direction.

Soap and Ghost sat in the trunk; its overhead door open to let in the late autumn breeze.

“Fuck, another night on the fuckin’ ground,” Soap moaned, leaning back against the inner side of the SUV. “Gonna be a rough fu--”

“I know a place,” Simon said quickly, almost too quick. His thumbs, looking too big for the little cracked screen of the iPhone 8 the military gave him (since he refused a smartphone for as long as possible) hit the virtual keyboard. He sent two messages before the machine was buzzing and flashing. He got up, rolled his shoulders, and answered.

Johnny whistled, pulling Gaz from the blue light of his laptop to Simon. His feet paced like John’s but quicker; too much energy for such a short call. His eyes didn’t seem so harsh as he explained the situation, describing his irritation at the whole thing. When he hung up, his body relaxed only a fraction before turning to the car.

“Got us a place to lay low,” He murmured. “Don’t see us getting a hotel from Laswell,” He commented as John cursed and gripped his phone, containing the growing rage for another short while. “Reception out here isn’t gonna happen ‘til the clouds fuck off.”

“The fuck you mean you know a place?” Soap asked, and Simon tugged his arm to pull him out of the trunk.

He closed the trunk door and shoved Soap into the back seat, he himself taking the driver’s seat. John didn’t question their new set-up, sitting in the passenger’s side and pointing the vents at his sweaty skin.

“We’re stayin’ with a friend. Lives remote, no neighbors, little to no internet,” Ghost hummed, pulling off the side of the road and heading to where his GPS blinked in retaliation for the lack of connection.

The team didn’t ask any more questions, too tired from the run to get this shitty little SUV, and instead reflected on the mission and their faults, as if they could have done anything to change the outcome. Bad intel is bad intel—there isn’t a way to fix it or better training to prepare for it. Still, the loss burned their skin like fire ant bites.

At a certain point, the phone stopped giving directions. Gaz questioned it, and Simon’s response made sense: when you live as remote as his friend did, GPS could only take you so far. The rest was muscle memory.

Soap asked him how often he came here. Simon said every time he had to leave the base, get away from the shitty flat he rents only for when he’s off deployments. Most of his possessions, he said, live here. There wasn’t anyone he trusted more than this person.

As they pulled down a dirt road, the first they saw was you.

You stood outside the two-floor cabin, standing on a wrap-around porch, your hands on your hips as you watched the shitty, sad SUV park on the dirt driveway. Simon was the first to pop out despite being the driver, taking big steps up to you and the front door. His body was tense only for a moment before you hugged him hello, silent otherwise, and let him trail mud, dirt, and blood into your home.

The rest watched from the car until you waved them up, turning and heading inside. On edge, they headed into the cabin and found it homey. It wasn’t what they were imagining from previous safe houses: dirty floors with stains and dust; broken or bare furniture, maybe none at all; thick spider webs and old cooking pots.

No, it was homey-homey. The furniture was worn but comfortable, soft blankets and thick pillows over any cushioned surface available. Rugs lined the wooden floors, making pathways for your socked feet. The windows had stained glass art pieces hanging to let the light shine in rainbows, and the few lights that were on at this point in the evening were small table lamps and a candle burning in the renovated and cozy kitchen. They could smell stew cooking on the stovetop and bread baking in the fire oven.

Simon didn’t seem to feel any of the intrusion that they did. His shoes were left by the door, a couple pairs that looked eerily similar lined up on a shoe rack. The coat rack had a mix of grey, Simon-sized hoodies and jackets with fluffy, colorful, graphic jackets that seemed to fit you.

Even as Simon wandered into the kitchen, checking on the stew and bread, he looked like he fit in the small space. He opened the fridge and pulled out a case of ale and a little bottle of wine while you grabbed beer mugs and a few wine glasses. You handed him the bottle openers as he handed you oven mitts for the bread. It was synchronized—Simon had been here enough before to know how you lived and worked.

“Who’s this?” Price asked, breaking the spell between you two. Simon glances at you then at Price.

Simon explained, grinning a little as he did, that you were his best friend of nearly 10 years; that you were the person on his emergency contact and his address when he was deployed. He watched as you started serving the stew and he said that you gave him permission to keep a low profile in your home until Laswell could tell them what to do next. There weren’t any other options available that wouldn’t bring attention to them, unless they wanted to sleep in the woods. Until then, Simon saw no reason to leave this place.

Price wanted to be the one to speak the truth—that Laswell would probably get back to them by morning—but as he watched Simon place full bowls on the kitchen table in the next room over while he mumbled to you about grabbing spoons and butter knives, he couldn’t. Instead, he nodded and led the rest to the table, enjoying the quiet moments of delicious and hot food that were far better than any MRE they had in their backpacks.

The rest of the night was calm. Johhny was eager to ask questions (and John and Kyle ready to listen), but the time never came. After dinner, you showed them where the two bathrooms were and where the guest shower was located. You took them into the basement where several couches and chairs sat around a stove heating the space and a flatscreen with VHS and DVD players. A few retro gaming consoles sat displayed on the TV stand. Pointing out the blankets, comforters, and pillows on one of the couches, you said that the laundry room was in the little space off to the side in case they wanted fresh clothes. Afterwards, you thanked them for keeping the place clean and headed up to the master bedroom.

It didn’t shock any of them when Simon trailed behind you.

Clean, fed, and exhausted, the interrogations began the next morning when you wandered downstairs in one of Simon’s shirts, putting sausage in a cast iron skillet for breakfast. Johnny, now awake and ready to annoy, sat in the kitchen and asked you question after question as you answered honestly.

“Why do you live out here?”

“It’s private.”

“Do you like it here?”

“Yes. Otherwise, I would move.”

“Where do you work?”

“Don’t need to.”

“Why don’t you need to work?”

“I have money.”

“How’d you get it?”

“...Si, usually.”

Johnny smirked like a fox when he thought he caught you, but you just giggle at his obsessive nature and finish up cooking. Simon comes down nearly 30 minutes later, settling beside you in the kitchen as he brews tea and coffee. His hands wandered every now and again to your arms, your side, a hand on your lower back as he moves around the kitchen—which makes Johnny’s eyes boggle. How could Simon be keeping such a sweet thing so hidden? Why is he lying by saying a ‘friend’?

It wasn’t until later, when the morning blurred into afternoon, that they understood why.

When he arrived, Simon’s mood soured while yours grew sweeter, if only for a moment. You kissed the mystery man at the door and told him the situation, to which he didn’t seem to mind. He headed upstairs, practically ignoring your silent requests for tender affection to shower. You sulked a little, trying to put on a brave face as you started on lunch. Simon was there, then, chatting with you more than he did anyone as you prepared subs and fries. They could hear your angelic rings of laughter as he calmed you into your previously happy self.

When the man came back down, he ordered you to grab him a beer, and you did so without a second thought. He demanded you grab the remote, whined when it wasn’t working (“As always,” Simon later grumbled), and took out his frustration on you. He berated your meal with backhanded compliments. He ignored your requests for napkins or salt to finish his food and leave for the shed outside, dirty plate and crumbs left on the table.

You sighed as he left, frowning and watching him disappear into the wooden shed. Then Simon was there again, taking up his seat beside you and set up to finish eating there. His eyes glanced at you, cracking piss-poor dad jokes to get your little voice to chuckle as you finished eating—maybe not as much as Simon thought you should, as he later shoved cut-up plum and cheese squares into your face while the two of you sat on the wrap-around porch and caught up over tea.

John wasn’t sure what to do; Gaz and Soap were even more lost. It was so clear, then it was so confusing. It wasn’t until dinner was over and the team was sitting by a little bonfire, you and your apparent husband off to bed for the night, that they asked Simon.

“Who is that, really?” John asked.

“...I dunno. Thought we were somethin’, then we weren’t. I knew the world wouldn’t wait for me forever. Now... now I have this.”

“You give ‘em money?” Johnny, now, asked.

“Have to. Stupid fucker blows it all at casinos or fucking hides it. He’ll make it a problem if things aren’t paid on time when he’s the jackass ruining the credit score. Don’t know for sure, but I think the fucker might get close to physical when I’m not here. Thinkin’ bought putting cameras around just to make sure.”

“So... what? Is this just how you’ll spend the rest of your life? Don’t think you’ll need to do much convincing, that bastard doesn’t care,” Kyle said, leaning back in his seat.

“He doesn’t. Our jobs are similar, he’s just in construction. Leave for a while, come back for a little bit, and then leave again. The only difference between that bloke and me is that I like being here. But...”

He thinks to you: how happy you were to date the jackass, playing with your hair nervously; how you glowed with something primal and sensual after he showed you “the best night of your life,” even if you’d go back on your words later when the love-bomb spell wore off; how he proposed so sloppily yet you ate it up like candy because no one had ever treated you so sweetly. It didn’t matter that he got so drunk at the wedding he puked on your dress or that Simon swore he saw the moron kissing another girl at a party but couldn’t be the one to ruin you by telling the truth. Your husband was romantic, you said, but all Simon saw were red flags and a growing need to rearrange the fucker’s teeth.

“But I can’t destroy happiness I don’t understand.”

“I don’t think what’s going on is ‘happiness’...” Johnny said, opening another bottle. “More like... I dunno, a lack of respect? Not knowing what happiness really is?” He bit his lip before clicking his tongue in triumph. “No, no, it’s complacency. Nothing bad can happen if nothin’ changes.”

Simon hums, smoking a cigarette and watching the flames of the fire.

Kyle glanced at Price, who cleared his throat for a second. “Simon, I’m not usually one for this kind of thing, but--”

“I know, need to get over it,” Simon snapped, smoking down the cigarette into a nub before throwing it into the firepit.

Price frowned. “I think it might be the opposite.”

“I’m not destroying a family.”

“There isn’t a family, Ghost, just two people who are married and don’t do shit together,” Johnny said. “He doesn’t seem to be in the picture. How often is this place empty? There’re no photos of them on the wall. He didn’t seem happy to see his own partner. They don’t even have kids.”

Simon frowns. “I know. It’s the main complaint... lyin’ ‘bout what he wants.”

“So then... take ‘em,” Johnny said, Kyle rolling his eyes. “It doesn’t seem like anyone’s holding on too tight.”

Simon didn’t speak again that night. He headed upstairs when the rest departed for the basement. The next day, the man was kissing you good-bye as the team came upstairs. You looked sad, miserable even, and followed him outside. The two of you spoke, but he snapped at you before heading to the car, ignoring your whines for a last kiss. He drove off and you came back inside, starting breakfast in silence again.

When Simon came down, he knew. He pushed John, Kyle, and Johnny to the basement so he could hold you and comfort you. You cried hard into his chest, hiccupping and sobbing as you whined about his disregard for your comfort—that he didn’t care enough to kiss you goodbye again when you asked him if this was the last time he’d leave you.

Simon hated it because himself in your lover. He imagined it before: leaving for a deployment and seeing your round teary eyes as he packed. He’d stop, instead picking you up to kiss you and lay you on the bed, proving that he loved you so much more than you knew. Maybe he wouldn’t even be able to leave if you cried like you had in the past.

No, he wouldn’t. He’d see your face and feel the fear you have of losing him. He’d leave his bags in the bedroom to pull you close to the couch, feeling over your skin like he’s been dying to do since he met you in that dirty dive bar when you both were in your early 20s. He’d ignore phone calls from Price or Laswell or any other CO to take you out for dinner and fuck you in the back of his truck like you always giggled about. He’d shower with you when you came home, wash your hair and realize your scent is all around him, not just the quick perfume he gets every time you pass by.

Would he mourn the death of his career? Probably not—not if you were pressed to his side, lips kissing his jaw and chin as he held your legs in his lap. (If he was lucky, maybe even pregnant.) Every metal, award, trophy... it’d dull the moment you stood beside it, the moment his brain conjured up your image in lieu of polished gold. He’d put on his crisp, shiny-adorned uniform one last time for your wedding. You always said the fabric made him look so regal.

It wasn’t a surprise when the next morning you seemed gloomy. You tried to play it off, smiling when talking to someone before retreating back into yourself, and John could tell how much it hurt Simon. He trailed behind you like a kitten, watching from doorways to make sure the waterworks hadn’t started. When they did, he tugged you to the master bedroom and let you curl up into the blankets and sob. Simon rubbed your back, a silent yet strong barrier between you and loneliness.

You asked him what you should do—how could you keep loving a man who won’t treat you like a person? Who won’t see you as anything but a hole to fuck when he comes home before leaving again? He wasn’t soft like Simon, you said, and Simon felt conflicted.

He wasn’t soft. No one else got to see the affection he rarely used, felt his hands doing anything other than breaking and taking. He towered over men far weaker than him. He didn’t feel remorseful for the pain he caused to those who deserved it and maybe even the ones who didn’t. He made himself built for war, yet you cried into his lap and called him a softie.

Maybe he was—but only for you. You were just an exception.

He couldn’t tell if it was the conversation from the previous night or your red cheeks and puffy eyes that did it for him. He couldn’t bare letting you fall apart over an ugly motherfucker like your husband. He calmed you, pulling your limp body into his lap. His arms around you felt more like a strait jacket than a hug, but you took it readily. Your fingers gripped his shirt, and he truly realized the effect you had on him. Tilting your chin up, he hummed a soft apology before pressing his lips to yours, keeping his hand on your jaw.

Maybe, after that, it was a good thing the bedroom door was locked. Maybe it took a few days for you to completely move forward, legal papers signed and delivered at the little post office in town, 25 minutes from your cabin. Maybe Simon was there, his hands and lips unable to leave your skin for longer than a minute. Maybe, as he left with Laswell’s next instructions, he took you upstairs one last time and promised to be back later, when he was done—that he’d come back and take you to the courthouse that same evening, paying a stranger to watch you exchange vows if Johnny didn’t tag along like he figured he would, and you’d never feel lonely again.

Imagine your surprise when he showed up three months later and he kept his word—with a certain loud Scot in tow, too.

[mins-fins]

I WISH YOU WOULD (P.WB)

SUMMARY . . . there's so much more he could've done, so much he could've said. he hates what a stupid mistake he made, and how ashamed he was. what does scrutiny matter if he couldn't even get his feelings out in the first place?

PAIRING . . . park wonbin x male!reader

GENRE . . . angst

WARNINGS . . . internalized homophobia, homophobia in general

WORD COUNT . . . 0.9k

NOTES . . . HAPPY FRIDAY!!! 1989 tv comes out today and i wish you would has always been my favorite song on 1989 so um this is what spawned because of it 👍 i'll be back in half an hour im gonna go watch that scary robot movie lol‼️

. . . lomls @partiallyderived and @jinkiseason asked to be tagged (they wanna make me cry so bad thats so crazy 🤣) (im listening to cherry bomb)

"i love you".

if wonbin could go back, trust he would.

there's something disappointing about falling in love with your fellow trainee, your fellow trainee who is also your best friend, your fellow trainee who is also a boy. he wishes he could rewrite time and not convince his mom to change his class at school, because then he would never have met him.

and now that sounds downright ridiculous, it can't possibly be that bad can it? i mean— falling in love with your best friend as a whole is an entire kind of situation that happens in books and usually has a happy ending. what's wrong with his best friend?

nothing, there's nothing wrong with him.

it's wonbin that's wrong.

having conflicting feelings is normal, obviously, everyone experiences it when they have a crush, but wonbin didn't want to have feelings for his best friend, wonbin didn't want to have a crush on a boy.

y/n was probably one of the best people he's ever met. he's kind, and understanding, and beautiful, and humorous and pretty much attractive to anyone with two pairs of eyes, he's the perfect boyfriend material, he's just perfect.

and maybe that's what felt so wrong about having feelings for his best friend, intimidation.

well, wonbin liked to lie to himself.

yeah, that's the reason your afraid of having feelings for your best friend, your "intimidated" by his perfection, not because your scared of what others would think, other trainees, management, your parents, the world, that's not the reason your afraid of having feelings for him.

wonbin had never really spent a lot of time thinking about it, and he hates how he can practically hear the responses from people the moment he realizes his feelings for y/n.

they're staring at him like he's disgusting.

and what's worse than having people judge you? judge you for something you yourself can't control?

it's what keeps him up at night, those worries used to be planted at the back of his mind, because how would it even become something of relevance in his life? it'd never actually become real.

and maybe he's wrong for thinking such a way; after all, he can't just let others dictate who he loves or doesn't love.

but it's the thoughts in his mind slowly eating away at him that make him feel like everything's spiraling out of control. he can't date y/n, in a company like sm, in a country like korea, where if someone ever saw them together he'd be scrutinized and black-listed from the idol industry despite how hard he's worked?

it all makes him feel sick to his stomach.

how was he even supposed to tell y/n? he knew y/n wasn't homophobic but.. then there's the fear of rejection, he can't even imagine the kind of look y/n would give him if he found out. not out of disgust, but out of surprise, shock.

somehow, his mind thinks of every bad possibility as an outcome.

and just staring at y/n, sweet beautiful y/n who has no idea what he's fighting in his head, makes him fear confessing even more.

the two of them are already what i guess you'd dub "over affectionate". they do a lot of couple-y things like have matching rings, cook for each other, help run errands together, cuddle, steal each other's sweaters, cling onto each other like they were lifelines.

if everything stayed like that, wonbin would be just fine.

but of course, when has life ever been nice to him?

wonbin can't really stare at y/n without feeling like he wants to break down into tears and sob, they could be having the best time ever and he'll still have this overwhelming wave of sadness wash over him when he remembers his feelings.

it disappoints him in a way that it shouldn't..

and y/n clearly picks up on his sudden change. his flushed cheeks, mutters, and the way he seems to enjoy avoiding eye contact with him these days.

is his unusual clinginess noticeable?

wonbin usually isn't self conscious about things that like, but he guesses falling in love with your best friend makes you begin seeing things in a whole different light. he can't help but notice the uncomfortable shift in the air between him and y/n.

nothing has even been said.. so why is his anxiety through the roof?

wonbin finally snaps out of whatever dream he was having when he feels nails dig into his shoulder, squeeze them like his life depends on it. that's all it takes for wonbin to flinch, and he hates the way his reaction is so immediate, it's just more obvious that way.

y/n blinks, startled by the way he suddenly flinches. "you okay?" he inquires, and wonbin wants to kiss him so bad it infuriates him.

he shouldn't want to kiss him.

he feels like he's being pinched, and somehow he forces out a response; "yeah i'm just tired".

y/n doesn't buy his lie, it's evident in the way he stares at him for a specifically long time. "you should be fine".

wonbin pauses. "what?"

"your gonna debut, i wouldn't worry about it" y/n mutters, and he brings his knees to his chest as he rocks back and forth.

wonbin stares, hopefully not for too long, because then he'd just be looking too obvious and then y/n would ask more questions.

he really wants to punch himself at the moment.

he shouldn't feel so disgusted about being in love with y/n.

but he does.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

(I wish I could ask this in a video with GamingMagic13’s editing style, but I don’t have the energy for that.)

People say that, after Antibug, Chloé’s redeeming qualities started to show through throughout Seasons 2 and 3 because Thomas Astruc didn’t contribute to those episodes of those seasons as if he wasn’t on the writing team for every episode for those two seasons, including the ones showing Chloé’s redeeming qualities.

It’s not “Thomas left so the other writers started to make a redemption for Chloé, but then he came back and threw it all away”, it’s leaning more towards “Thomas, along with other writers, wanted to waste our time with Chloé pity parties for two seasons and trick people into feeling bad for her, which worked on plenty of reactors, and then yank the rug out from under them just for the sake of pulling a rug out from viewers” whether it’s the truth or not.

Also, do you get the feeling that, if people weren’t harassing Thomas and his family over Chloé’s “abandoned redemption”, Chloé wouldn’t have been made into evil incarnate to spite people?

Considering that the hiatus between Seasons 3 and 4 started towards the end of 2019, had to continue throughout 2020 due to the COVID pandemic with only the New York special to keep us busy in September 2020, and then finally ended shortly after 2021 started, that would have been plenty of time to rework scripts, because we know he was also on the writing team for every episode of Seasons 4 and 5 alongside 2 and 3, to made Chloé more and more unlikeable while propping up the male adults to spite Chloé fans, like several episodes of Teen Titans GO! and even this show are guilty of.

Whether all of this is true or not, I think it all lines up too well for too many other outcomes.

The "Thomas Astruc was able to completely rewrite the plans for this character and no one stopped him" take has always been a little wild to me especially since Chloe never showed meaningful improvement in canon. In fact, now that we've seen her story play out in all it's disappointing and time-wasting glory, you can even argue that Despair Bear was straight up telling you what we were in for since it's the same plot, just on a smaller scale.

As far as I know, there is no evidence for this "Chloe was rewritten" conspiracy. At the very least, no one has sent any my way on the multiple occasions when I've asked for it. Astruc is a credited writer for pretty much every episode involved in the Queen Bee arc and, while head writers have a good deal of power, they often don't have supreme power over their shows. This is especially true when it comes to kids shows since those have a lot of restrictions on what they can do. While I cannot speak French, I've been told that this class involves one of the writers talking about the multiple darker version of Chat Blanc that were rejected, leading to Chat Blanc being a season three episode instead of a season two episode like they originally planned.

These shows are products that are being sold to buyers who do have the power to reject the product and the writers work for a company. In most cases, they can be stopped!

There's also the fact that this is Astruc's career that we're talking about. You're arguing that he purposely messed with his reputation and screwed up the writing in the show that he's most well-known for in order to get back at online randos instead of just blocking them and moving on with his life. That's an insanely hard sell for me. Unintentional bad writing is a much easier explanation especially since he has nothing to gain from people disliking the Chloé stuff. This wasn't situation where Astruc needed to tank the show to get out of writing it. If Astruc left the project, then Miraculous would go on without him. While he came up with the initial idea, Zag owns the property.

Unless someone has hard evidence that Chloé was changed to spite fans, I am never going to buy into this conspiracy theory. Her bad writing is too in line with the show's other issues. Remember, this is the show that gave us Derision, everything about Lila, and Gabriel getting an 'ascends into the light with a smile' ending while his son sat the fight out and remains in the dark. Is Chloé really meaningfully worse than any of that?

I'd say no and, if you agree, then why do you think that she's so special? I've previously called her a canary in the coal mine and that's going to be my read until someone gives me evidence of something else. She was your warning sign that the writing was never going to be very good. I don't think she foretold just how bad it would get - that's why I kept watching - but her story showed that these writers were only good at short-form content and sucked at long-form content. In fact, Chloé's story is arguably better than a lot of the long-form stuff that the show gave us in season four and five. At least Chloé's story logically flowed together even if it was massively disapointing!

I also don't consider Chloé's season four and five writing downgrade to be all that telling because, once again, it's not unique to her. The class gets a similar downgrade in quality, going from "we'll help Marinette with her confession plans when she asks, but this isn't a major thing to us" to "we live for Adrienette and will make our own plans for Marinette to confess and force them on her/try to force Adrienette to kiss." It makes the entire class feels more shallow than ever.

Gabriel also gets a downgrade with his writing going more over-the-top than ever. We have things like him locking Adrien in a cell and using Adrien's amoks for no obvious reason even though Gabriel is supposed to get an ending where he dies totally at peace and ascends into the light. Totally nonsense choices just like the choice to make Marinette's inability to speak to Adrien because she's anxious into a full-out trauma response.

These are just a few of the many, many, many writing downgrades.

If you truly believe the Chloé conspiracy, then I'd strongly encourage you to watch at least the first of the videos I'm about to link and see if you notice similarities. I have all of them set to the specific, relevant timestamps in case you don't want to watch a massive video to see what I'm talking about because they all talk about more than the conspiracies that arose in these fandoms when the writing got "bad" (especially the last one. The conspiracy gets a very brief mention. I really only included it because I wanted three examples and just went with ones big enough that someone else had done research on the topic because it's not an area of fandom that I've ever waded into).

I'm linking these videos because I wanted to give you more than me just saying "this kind of thing happens all the time when media gets bad." Watching just a few minutes of each of these should give you the context you need assuming the timestamps work:

As you can hopefully see, the Chloé stuff is nothing new. So many pieces of media do something disappointing and then fans create conspiracies for why it happened, refusing to accept what is most likely to be the unfortunate truth: the writers thought they told a good story or, at the very least, they did the best they could within the confines they were working with be those confines monetary, temporal, and/or the limits of their own skills. That doesn't make the bad writing okay, you're fully valid in being upset, but there's also no need to create a conspiracy theory around it. It's probably not that deep. This shit happens all the time, especially in larger fandoms.

This is why I often give the advice of, "don't trust your mental health to stories that you have no control over." Is not that fandom isn't fun, I've just seen this shit before and I always feel bad for those who get involved with it. I've luckily never gone down the conspiracy rabbit hole, but I have gotten really upset when other fans continued to like a show that was bad, actually, and got a good deal of catharsis when most of the fandom woke up after the final was terrible. That still wasn't a good experience for me, though. It was not a healthy mindset to be waiting with baited breath for total strangers to agree with me that this random show was bad. I'm much better of bashing it with those who agree that it's bad, moving on when I'm no longer having fun, and letting those who like it be wrong (that is both a joke and real advice. Don't waste your time trying to change people's minds on something as insignificant as Miraculous. Just let them be wrong.)

[lainiespicewrites]

Someone to take her home

Hey guys so I wrote this a while ago! This is a Henry one shot it an OFC because I'll die on the self insert hill! LOL it gives me so much comfort. Is that weird IDK. Anyway this story is kind of heavy. I wrote this to get out some feelings about an SA that I had experienced. I've always been someone that if I'm stressed I rewrite the situation with a comforting outcome or a better outcome to release the stress or make myself feel better. I wanted to sort of write myself a way to get some comfort from the trauma. And I hope having a character like this sweet soft version of Henry may help some of you too. I never reached out for myself for help and maybe I should have but if you experienced something please talk to someone. If you need someone to talk to or just want a place to let it out my DM's are a safe space <3 Just as disclaimer this doesn't mention any of the actual situation that happened to me. Just a filler to get out the emotion. Still this is a fluff with lots of love and sweet gentle young Henry bc I just know in my soul this was and is how he is as a person!

Warnings: Light Cursing, Trauma, Mentions of sexual assault. (Please reach out for help even if it's just talking to someone about your situation. My DM's are open if y'all wanna talk after this <3)

Description: OFC goes to college party and meets Henry and they become fast friends. and he helps her when things turn bad with a guy he warned her about.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stared at myself in the mirror one more time. I needed to leave soon. If I looked any longer I would find something I hated and talk myself out of going. So I grabbed my bag and turned off my bedroom light. Nervous didn’t begin to describe how I was feeling. I’d never been to a party like this before. Sure I’d been out a few times in high school. But it was usually theater cast parties. And one time my friend and I stole some captain morgan from her parents liquor cabinet. But this was on an entirely different scale. 

Most of my drinking was a night in with the girls with wine or movie night drinking games. God I sound so boring. It’s not that I don’t enjoy partying. I was genuinely excited to be invited out tonight. Lilly and I had worked together for a few assignments in class. And we would say hi when we ran into each other in the dorms. But, I never expected to get a text this afternoon inviting me to her boyfriend's party. Purdue was an incredibly large campus. Upwards of 40,000 plus students. Yet somehow Lilly’s boyfriend Riley Hardesty seemed to know everyone. He was known for throwing huge parties all year. They weren’t exclusive. You could just be driving through the neighborhood and stop in.  But she told me a friend of  Riley’s had asked her about me. 

Matt Parker. I know of him. He’s in my English 204 lecture. But we’ve never talked. But he is really attractive. So maybe something good would come from all of this! I decided just to walk as my dorm wasn’t far from the house Riley and his roommates lived in. It was a cool night in mid october and I was definitely regretting the little black denim skirt I was wearing. I was smart enough to wear a cardigan but it was still cold. Thank God it's only 2 blocks down. I bit my lip nervously. Am I even going to know anyone here? Anyone I actually talk to? It’s too late now. I already got dressed and ready. I walked here. I have to go through with this. 

I took a deep breath and walked inside. Things were already full swing. I could hear the music outside before I even opened the door. No one seemed to notice me and honestly I was okay with that. I looked around scanning the room. Almost everyone had a drink in hand, standing around in groups talking. The smell of  pot hit me immediately as I started to walk through the house. I wasn’t  the least bit surprised. I made my way to the kitchen where I found multiple drinks, alcohol and mixers available. I kept it simple and grabbed a wine cooler. Something fruity. I was definitely going to need a buzz if I was going to be here longer than 5 minutes.

 I pushed my way out of the kitchen and found a quiet corner to drink and observe for a while. I was busy listening to some guys talk about last weekend's football game when I heard someone’s voice. And I realized they were talking to me. I shifted my eyes seeing a guy standing next to me. He was maybe 6’1, blue eyes, and brown hair with soft curls. I gave him a gentle smile,

“I’m sorry, what was that?” I asked. He smiled and chuckled softly. His smile was beautiful. 

“I uh, Just noticed your shirt. Are you a Def Leppard fan?” He asked. I looked down. I completely forgot that was the shirt I was wearing. I just thought a band t-shirt would look cute with the skirt. But

“Yeah! Well I know a few of their songs! My Mom was in her 20’s in the 80’s and she loved them!” I said. 

“She has good taste! They’re awesome! Are you here by yourself? Not trying to be creepy I just noticed you were by yourself over here and I wanted to make sure you were alright,” He rambled. I nodded.

“I look that out of place huh? Yeah, I um. I’m friends with Riley’s girlfriend. Well not friends necessarily. But I know her. Anyway she invited me because of some friend of Riley’s but I don’t know this isn’t normally my scene. Wow that was a lot,” I blushed. “Sorry,” I mumbled. 

“For?” He smiled, raising an eyebrow. “We’re talking. I like getting to know people! And I totally get it. This can kind of be a lot sometimes. I actually came with some friends but I needed to step away from all the crazy for a second. I’m Henry by the way.” He smiled, extending his hand. I took it and He squeezed mine softly. 

“Alayna!” I said. 

“It’s nice to meet you!” He smiled. “Which one of Riley’s friends? If you don't mind me asking,” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Matt Parker,” I said bluntly. “You know him,” Henry took a sip of his beer and nodded. 

“I do, He’s alright. We’re sort of friends I suppose. He may have good intentions. Listen, I know you don’t need my advice, but just be careful around him. I don’t know what you were expecting with him or hoping for. But he can be a little, well, if I had a daughter I wouldn’t trust him with her. But I could be wrong. I’m sorry, that was a bit much. I don't want to ruin your evening,” He said. 

“For?” I smirked copying his face from earlier. “You seem to have pure intentions. Just looking out for someone. That’s really kind of you actually. I honestly don't know what I was expecting. But I can handle myself. I didn’t really come out tonight for him. I wanted to actually let loose and have fun for once. I’ve been trying to have more adventures, meet new people, make new friends.” I smiled looking him in the eyes on that last part. He gave me a big smile and held out his beer bottle to cheers me. 

“To new friends,” He spoke and we clinked our bottles together. “I like you, I mean talking to you.” He said. 

“I like talking to you too! I was honestly super anxious about coming tonight. I was worried I’d be too anxious and awkward to have fun or it would be too much. Because this is a lot. I’m 100% sure I saw someone do coke off the kitchen counter. But I’m actually enjoying myself. Right now anyway.” I laughed. Henry chuckled. 

“Good! Well, I’m going to go find my friends but, what's your number? I’ll send you a text real quick and if you get overwhelmed or uncomfortable  or need to escape all of this for a bit come find me! Or text me. I’d be happy to be there for you.  And we can just chill out for a while.” I smiled and gave him my phone number. It was nice to meet someone as kind as Henry. You don’t meet a lot of people that… genuine and gentlemanly in places like this. He gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze before he walked off to find his friends. I wandered off to get another drink while I was standing in the kitchen waiting to grab another wine cooler. I felt someone lay their arm across my shoulder. 

“Hey gorgeous,” I recognized Matt’s voice. I gave him a soft smile. 

“Hi,” I spoke. 

“I’m glad you came tonight, You having a good time,” He asked, clearly buzzed. 

“Yeah,” I said tentatively “One hell of a party!” I laughed. 

“For sure!” He smiled and moved to the side of me taking his arm off my shoulder. “What are you drinking babe?” He asked. 

“Just Mike's lemonade.” I chuckled awkwardly. 

“Aw come on girl you can do something stronger than that huh?” He joked. I shook my head.

“I probably could but I’d rather not get sick.” I said. 

“Aw well come on at least do a shot with me?” He asked, giving me a puppy dog face and pouting. “Just tequila, we got training wheels!” He added. 

“I don’t know… I don’t wanna get too crazy,” I said. 

“Nah, it’ll be alright, it’ll just loosen you up a bit!” He spoke already pouring the shots. He slid one over to me. And a piece of lime. “Ready?” I picked up the shot and stared at it questioningly. 

“Alright,” He smiled. We clicked the glasses and hit them against the table before taking the shot. It was super bitter. I immediately followed it with the lime. But it didn’t help much. When I looked up again Matt had gotten me another Mike’s from the cooler.

“Atta girl!” He smirked. He took a step closer and I took the drink from him. Then I heard someone call his name from across the house. They were starting another game of beer pong. “That’s my que babe, but wait for me yeah? I’ll come back to you after this game!” He smirked and left a wet kiss on my cheek before running off to join the boys. 

Charming is certainly not a word I would use to describe him. But he’s nice. And he’s just trying to make sure I have fun. There’s no harm in that. I wandered around the party again. I opened up my new bottle and tossed the cap on a nearby coffee table. I thought about watching the beer pong game but I honestly wasn’t interested. I found the door leading to the backyard and saw there was a bonfire going. I stepped outside and found an empty seat by the fire. I watched it crackle for a bit and took a long sip of my drink. I felt a warmth inside me and knew it was coming from the alcohol. I started to relax as I listened to the fire and the white noise of the people chatting around me. It was a gorgeous night.

“Hey!” I heard a voice from behind me. “Funny meeting you out here!” Henry spoke, pulling up a chair next to me.

“Hey!” I said excitedly. “It’s calm out here. I like it!” I said. Henry smiled. 

“I do too, I love a good fire. Fuels the soul.” He half joked. 

“ I love the smell! Is that weird?” I laughed. 

“No,” He chuckled softly “Not at all! So, besides the band on that very cool shirt, What other music do you like?” Henry asked, leaning back in his chair and taking a long swig of his beer. 

“Oh all kinds. I’m a big lover of the stuff from the 70s though! Elton John, Heart, the Beatles, I guess they’re technically 60’s. I know it’s kind of old school but. I feel like they just don’t make music like that anymore.” I explained. 

“Classic! I like it,” He smiled. 

“What about you?” I asked. 

“Oh I’m all over the place too. I’m actually a big country fan!” He smirked. 

“I wouldn’t have expected that from you but I respect it. It’s not my favorite genre but there are definitely some good ones there!” I smiled. Henry and I chatted for a while. We talked about our majors. He's a history major. Where we’re from, he has an accent but I didn’t want to ask and be weird about it. He told me he’s from the UK. We talked about books, history and our friends. It was nice. A little while later I felt an arm around my shoulder again. I knew it was Matt. 

“There she is! Did you think I forgot about you babe?” He asked. 

“No,” I smiled blushing softly. He smiled. 

“Hey Henry! Are you having a good time, man?” He asked. Henry nodded and finished his beer. 

“Yeah! Actually I should go get another one. It was nice talking to you Alayna!” He smiled at me before he got up and left. I don’t know why but I could tell Henry wasn’t the biggest fan of Matt. He said they were friends earlier but I think he was just trying to be nice

I was shaken from the thought when I heard Matt’s voice again. 

“Hey, follow me!” He said enthusiastically. 

“Okay,” I smiled. I got up and followed him back inside. He led us upstairs and down the hall to what I assume was his room. 

“Too many people out there, I wanted to be alone with you,” He smiled. 

“That’s really sweet! It is pretty crowded.” I said. 

“Yeah,” He said blankly. “Are you enjoying the party?” He asked. 

“I am,” I said half telling the truth. I enjoyed talking to Henry. 

“God you’re so gorgeous,” He said. “I always want to talk to you in class but you always leave so quickly I never get the chance.” He said. 

“Thank you,” I blushed. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asked. I don’t know if I wanted it or if it was the alcohol but I nodded. He smirked and leaned in kissing me on the lips. It was gentle at first but then he quickly started using tongue. I felt kind of awkward. So I backed away. “Oh sorry, you okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” I lied. He just nodded and went back to kissing me. I kissed him back a bit but then I felt him start to feel me up. I froze. I really didn’t want that. He moved his hand under my shirt and I stopped him. 

“Uh Matt, I really don’t know about this.” I said nervously. He pulled back 

“It’s fine, nobody's gonna come in, don't worry about it.” He said and started kissing my neck. Oh god this sucks. 

“No I mean. I don’t… want to do this.” I stuttered. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun babe, it’ll be alright.” He kept feeling me up and continued kissing me. I felt stuck. He pushed himself against me, grinding into me. He moaned. I swallowed hard. Fuck, I really didn’t want this. 

“No, Matt, I really don’t want to.” I said again. 

“Shhh just go with it.” he said, shushing me. “You’ll enjoy it, I promise.” He said, sliding his hand under my skirt and rubbing his fingers against me. 

“No, stop Matt,” I said again, my voice quivering. He was definitely stronger than me. He used his other hand to take himself out of his shorts and he grabbed my hand putting it on him while he kept touching me, forcing his fingers inside. It hurt. I don’t know how but finally I found the strength to push him away from me. He stumbled back and fell against the bed and I ran out of the room. I could feel the tears stinging in my eyes already but I had to get out of this house. I quickly ran down the stairs and out the front door. Matt was pretty drunk so I don’t even think he tried to follow me. I walked a little way down the street and stopped letting out a sob. What the hell just happened. How did I let that happen? How could I have been stupid enough to trust him or follow him? I didn’t know what to do. I probably should have headed back to the dorm but I didn’t want to be alone right now. I took to my phone trying to think of who to talk to. 

I saw I had a text. It was Henry. “Hey it’s me! Henry I mean lol feel free to text me anytime.” I sent him a quick text taking a deep breath and trying to pull myself together. I didn’t want him to see me like this. I was so stupid. He tried to warn me. 

“Hey, it’s Alayna, where are you?” I sent it. To my surprise he responded almost immediately. 

“By the fire, You okay?” it read. 

“Would you wanna go on a walk with me?” I asked. There’s no way I could go back there. 

“Sure :) where are you?” 

“On the front sidewalk like 3 houses down toward campus.” 

“Be right there!” true to his word about 2 minutes later I saw him walking down the sidewalk toward me. 

“How are you?” He asked. 

“Good,” I nodded absentmindedly. 

“Were you leaving?” He asked.

I um,” I stuttered “Yeah, it was just… too much. I was gonna head home. I feel stupid I was just gonna walk home. I'll be fine, I’ll let you have fun. I don’t wanna interrupt your night.” I rambled. 

“No! Please do! I’d be happy to walk you home. Talking with you was the most fun I had tonight actually.” He stated simply. I smiled weakly.

“I’m glad.” I said. 

“Are you alright?” He asked me. I sighed trying not to get emotional. 

“Yeah, just a little overwhelmed and tired.” I lied. We walked in silence for a bit. I couldn’t believe how kind he was. The fact that he would leave his friends to walk me home. He was genuinely concerned about me. That feeling made me even more overwhelmed and finally after everything I could help but start crying. I felt like I had no control over my body as I started to sob. I felt my shoulders start to shake. Henry stopped and put his hands on my shoulders.

“Alayna what's wrong?” He asked me. I tried so hard to speak.

“He wouldn’t.. And I said… no, but he kept…” it all came out in broken sobs. Henry didn’t say anything. He just pulled me into him and hugged me tightly. After a few seconds. I started to calm down and tried to steady my breathing. 

“Shh it’s alright,  just breathe.” I heard him say. I slowed my breathing. “Did he touch you?” He asked gently, trying not to upset me again. I couldn’t speak, I just nodded. Henry went stiff. I looked up and saw his jaw was clenched. “Mother fucker,” He mumbled quietly under his breath. Then he spoke louder “Do you want to go talk to someone? Like report it?” He asked. Again his voice was gentle. I shook my head. 

“I can’t, I know I should but I really can’t, not now.” I said. He nodded. 

“Okay, well let's get you home.” He said. I started to walk again. Henry kept an arm around me as we walked. We were quiet the whole way there. He walked me all the way to the door. Wanting to make sure I got in okay.

“Thank you,” I said. But just as he turned to leave I grabbed his hand. “Wait, please don’t go.” I said, trying not to sound desperate. Not that I had the energy to care. 

“You want me to stay?” he asked. I nodded. 

“Yeah, no, I .. I don’t .. You don’t have to, I’ll be okay.” I said. 

“Hey,” He paused, grabbing my hand. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.” So I took off my shoes and slipped into the bathroom to change into some shorts. I laid in my bed and Henry sat next to me. “Do you want to watch something?” He asked. I nodded. And turned on my TV scrolling aimlessly. I stopped on some old 90’s sitcom. 

“Thank you, for staying,” I said. 

“You shouldn’t be alone right now. And I meant what I said. I had more fun talking to you tonight than with anyone else.” He smiled sympathetically. 

“I did too,” I said.  I sat up going to kiss him but he stopped me.

“Not tonight, darling. Believe me I would love to kiss you. But I think you’ll regret it later if you do this now. I like you. I’m not going anywhere. Let's take this slow. You’ve been through a lot tonight. I’ll still be here when you’re ready. But I think tonight you need to rest.” he said. The universe gave me Henry tonight. If I hadn’t ran into him. I’d have been alone after being sexually assaulted by a guy I barely know. Any other guy wouldn’t have treated me like him. He was so gentle and respectful. He was genuinely looking out for my best interest when he could’ve taken advantage of my vulnerability. I just nodded.

“I’m sorry that was stupid.” I sighed. 

“No, it wasn’t” he put his arm around me pulling me into his side and I naturally rested my head on his chest. “You don’t need to apologize. Try to get some rest.” He spoke gently. I could hear his heartbeat and my breath slowed to match the rhythm. Eventually so did he. I looked up to find him asleep with his arm still around me. I settled in snuggling into his side. All the noise around me slowly faded away and I finally got to rest, falling asleep in Henry’s arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That’s it you guys please let me know what you think. I love you all so much! You’ve shown my writing so much love 🥰

[spirit-meets-the-b0ne]

House of the Dragon was built to fail

Which the greatest shame of that is, I truly believe they got an incredible cast of talented actors, it's distressing to see them largely wasted. I've been an HBO fan (in a Stockholm kind of way) for the better part of two decades and even some of their usual pitfalls were accelerated here. While it's easy to just blame Ryan (5 spits for an enemy Condall) it still feels like there's more than just writing or directing so this post won't focus as much on the characterization follies but more on the story's infrastructure. While budgetary concerns with a show like this are obvious considering the dragons cost a great deal of time and money it is odd to me that this is a series rather than a mini-series. By that I mean, HBO for most of their big productions had seasons ranging from 10-15 episodes (Sopranos S1 13 episodes, True Blood S1 12 episodes, The Wire S1 13 episodes, etc) so this is exceptionally short of a season for House of the Dragon. Game of Thrones original run was largely a 10 episode format until the later seasons which were also notably shit.

This structure was never designed to give the characters or an audience time to breathe. While this is something that is continually brought up across the cinema/film community these days it seems especially important here. It also seems very easy for an audience to decide against investing time and energy into a series that only holds you for 8 weeks and then takes another 2-3 years of production. As most of the audience knows, it isn't like there is a shortage of materials for the show to incorporate. It's an active choice to not dive more into the lives and circumstances of these character and their relationships. Now, I'm not expecting Lost 2.0 where every character will get an episodic focal point and backstory. Still, you have plenty of non-dragon riding characters whom you could spend time with that don't require maxing out your VFX budget for. Because as of right now from the posts I've been seeing it's clear that most of the general audience at this point is more invested in the dragons than any human character in the show save for some Stans. I can't say I blame them. Most every character at this point is barely tolerable or straight up deeply unlikeable. That's a failure of the writers and directors explicitly. I think the actors are genuinely doing the best they could with the material they're given.

It's frustrating because while I was expecting this show to disappoint (both because of GoT's outcome and HBO's late game losing streak shout out to True Blood for getting so bad I never watched the final episodes) this production is hitting that wall way sooner than expected. If there was another 2-4 episodes to actually develop the characters and their relationships (even with piss poor writing) it might have helped tremendously but this structure is going to leave an audience wanting more and not in a good way. If there is a season 3 I can't imagine in 2 years that a lot of the current viewership would return. So even the "fix it" episode rewrites fans make don't seem like enough, to me you genuinely need more material, more for an audience to invest in or feel a part of. If this season was even 10 episodes there would have been so much room for improvement. The Last of Us was able to deliver a satisfying plot and character arcs with 9 episodes and there's a huge difference with the way that was received by audiences vs. HotD. The obvious difference is the amount of time they needed to tell that story vs. the amount of time you rightly needed to tell this one, which is case in point why HotD needed more time. So, while a short season can deliver satisfaction in some cases, I don’t believe as a rule it should all be common place to condense stories and characters. Especially considering HotD's compression is coming largely at the expense of the women in the show (Rhaena, Jeyne Arryn, Helaena, Nettles, Rhaenrya and Alicent's respective character assassination, etc). That's to say even if these character plots deviate from the canon they have the room to grow and develop a character completely to an audience. If you're going to change a character from the source material at least make them a well-developed different person.